


Perhaps, it was the (deleted scene)

by RainingPrince



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingPrince/pseuds/RainingPrince
Summary: Just an alternate scene it felt too sad to never let see the light of day.





	Perhaps, it was the (deleted scene)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Perhaps, it was the masks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250724) by [RainingPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingPrince/pseuds/RainingPrince). 

> The premise for this (if you haven’t read "Perhaps, it was the masks" already maybe go do that first) is that Ixnael did not show up before Aziraphale and Crowley met up in Kanagawa, but just after. And then Crowley and Aziraphale met up the next day and had a similar conversation about taking a break. This didn't feel so comfortable with the formatting and made the other shorter chapter split in two and I didn't wanna do that.  
But I also loved this scene so I'm making it available anyway.

They hadn’t seen each other since the Globe.

After the strange conversation in the fountain, they had forgotten to make further plans. They’d only managed to meet at the Globe when Crowley had quite miraculously received a letter asking him to meet among the crowds of the audience. There hadn’t actually been any crowds.

With Aziraphale headed to Edinburgh so shortly after, Crowley had found he wasn’t all that sure what to do with himself. So he had set about weaving a small series of miracles culminating in the success of a play he himself wasn’t all that invested in; but he’d promised the angel and he was going to make good on it.

Three years later he’d run out of things to do in London, and had spent a brief stint in Germany before receiving new orders to head to Japan.

The very first years of what would come to be known as the Edo period were quite hectic. So close to a change in power, it had been hard to earn favor, but he’d managed to at least get himself a ringside seat with occasional opportunities to whisper in the right ears. Things were tense, as they usually were this close to a world leader, and Crowley wasn’t exactly unused to suspicion. 

It had been a truly pleasant night so far. The two of them had met during the festival, taken a walk, and spent some time at Crowley’s [APARTMENT?] before he’d walked the angel to their own lodgings. The two of them had plans to meet again the next day, a few more hours before parting again for who knew how long. 

**::**

It was late, the sun already below the horizon and the birds were settling in for the night. He’d been drinking, and was already pretty sloshed by the time he decided to head home.

The door to his room stood open just a few inches.

He wasn’t used to having his space invaded. Usually, a simple ward or just the expectation that his things would be left alone was enough to ensure his privacy. Even though it was a rented room in an inn on the west side of Edo, it was still his, at least for the time being. Either this was a very, very determined human or…

He leaned in close to the door and peeked inside, trying to get a view of whoever it was without alerting them to his presence. He’d only gotten a glimpse, but it was all it took. A flash of platinum blonde hair, the faintest scent of ozone and ethereal magic. He’d almost thought it was Aziraphale, but why would he be here? A prank? Wasn’t much his style. And then he’d gotten a better look when he peered again. Definitely not Aziraphale, this angel had longer hair and was much smaller in frame. Why was an angel here?

It was almost disappointing to will himself into sobriety, he’d been looking forward to the nap. He liked to make use of the hazy, warm feeling while it lasted, and the fact that he never had to worry about hangovers made it all the more appealing. But as soon as he felt the alcohol leave his system he felt the adrenaline take its place, and he remembered the last time he’d been cornered by another celestial. What’s-his-name had threatened Aziraphale. He needed to be able to think.

Looking around desperately, he reached for the only thing he could; a very old broom handle that had been sitting next to the door when he rented the place. The action just slightly pushed the door open further, eliciting a tiny squeak in the hinges. The angel stopped to listen, but didn’t appear to have seen him yet.

With his hand firmly held around the broom handle, he pushed the door open, and barged into the room. “Who the fuck are you?” He demanded before he realized this was probably a bad idea and that he should have gotten as far away as possible. Angels and demons didn’t mix (his own strange situation notwithstanding) and this could turn ugly real quick.

“Oh!” The angel squeaked, _actually squeaked_ and jumped, turning around to look at him. “Oh, goodness gracious, you very nearly scared the pants off me!”

“I scared you?” Crowley asked, incredulous. “You’re the one poking through my things!”

“These are your things?” The angel gave him a cursory glance from head to foot, and back again. “So you’re the demonic presence here.” They looked contemplative. “That explains some things.”

“What’s it to you?”

The angel shrugged. “I’ve never met a demon before.”

“You might never get another chance,” Crowley snarled. “What do you want?”

“You’re not my main objective here. But if you don’t cooperate I may yet have to discorporate you.” The angel sniffed. He couldn’t place their accent.

Crowley had a hard time keeping a panicked smirk off his face. “Discorporate me? Don’t you think that’s a little premature?”

The angel deflated. “Truth be told I’d rather not, I’m not in the mood. I was looking for another angel. I thought I smelled him here, but he seems to be gone now. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah sure, two angels in one day. I’ll get a commendation for smiting you both.” Crowley definitely hadn’t smote the only other angel he’d seen recently, but he really didn’t want to fight this one. He hoped the bluster would frighten them away.

“I doubt that very much. I’d have known if a smiting took place anywhere nearby.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re really not scared of me?”

“Well, I mean, intellectually I know I probably should be, but to be honest? You’re holding an old broomstick with piss poor form, your glasses are knocked askew, and you still haven’t even twitched to hit me even though I’ve been standing here in range for two minutes.” The strange angel looked him up and down again, and then inhaled deeply. “You smell like him.”

“Like who?”

“Aziraphale.”

“Hang on, you’re here for Aziraphale?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. Crowley blessed internally. He’d tipped his cards, he’d shown too much! Curse his loose tongue, his insatiable curiosity and this blasted angel’s innocent act! He might as well still be drunk for all he’d bungled this.

“Well, naturally.” Perhaps the angel hadn’t picked up on his slip? Perhaps there was a chance he’d get out of this, perhaps they hadn’t noticed? “Do you know where I can find him?”

“I might.” He said, cagily.

The angel gave him a look which firmly conveyed they believed him to be full of shit.

Crowley considered the implications of this question.

If he answered with a lie, he had a sneaking suspicion the angel would know it. He didn’t want to risk upsetting an angel. Even if they weren’t very powerful, a celestial struggle could have dire consequences, and he didn’t feel like explaining a bloody battle to anyone, especially not his supervisors. If they were more powerful than they looked was definitely a worrying prospect with any foe.

If he told the truth he was admitting to his association with Aziraphale; which carried the very real risk of getting them both killed. In more ways than one. So far, this angel hadn’t actually given him any indication that he should be afraid, beyond breaking and entering. He wasn’t one to judge, he’d done far worse. But it was still a very real risk.

Perhaps there was a way to skirt the implications, admit to knowing **of** the angel and give no indication beyond that. “He left, about half an hour ago.”

“And, where will I find him now?”

Crowley pointed in the direction of the inn he’d just come from.

“I suppose that’ll have to do, I’ll be on my way then!” The angel made their way around him to the door, then seemed to hesitate. They looked back at him with an unreadable expression. “You should probably be more careful.”

Panic gathered tightly in his throat, enough that his voice broke. “About what?” Crowley asked.

“I suppose as long as he hasn’t been discorporated or worse then… it’s really none of my business. Though you mark my words demon, if he asks for my help to deal with you he’ll have it without hesitation.” It sounded more protective than outright hostile. “Again, just a thought. Can’t stop you… Demon.” And then they were gone.*

**::**

[*The angel in question would later have a minor existential crisis about what would have happened if wherever that bluster had come from it hadn’t worked. And also about why that attitude never appeared around their multitudinous siblings. It would most certainly have come in handy, getting out of a scolding, and yet it seemed unique to the one situation in their life they’d gotten this close to death**. What a waste.]  
[**Extinction? Defunction? Expiration?]


End file.
